


Complicated

by likethenight



Series: Writers' Month 2020 [20]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Awkward questions, Children, Cute Kids, Gen, Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:47:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26065219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likethenight/pseuds/likethenight
Summary: Tilda wants to know why the Elvenking was mean to Tauriel, when her Da seems to think he's nice, and Tauriel tries to explain.Written for Writers' Month 2020, day 23, prompt "poison".
Relationships: Bard the Bowman/Thranduil, Tauriel & Tilda (Hobbit Movies)
Series: Writers' Month 2020 [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1867720
Comments: 4
Kudos: 29
Collections: Writer's Month 2020





	Complicated

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place takes place during the winter after the Battle of the Five Armies which occurs in chapters 17-21 of my Bard/Thranduil story [My Heart Is An Empty Vessel](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26197213).

On one of the coldest nights of the winter, Tauriel was reading Tilda her bedtime story from the book of Elven fairytales that her King had sent. The little girl was bundled up in blankets and there was a fire in the grate, but the cold still pervaded the room and made her shiver, though Tauriel did not feel it nearly so acutely. 

Coming to the end of the tale she was reading, Tauriel paused for a moment, weighing up whether there was time to begin another one, or whether Tilda should be going to sleep now.

“Tauriel?” said Tilda, and Tauriel raised her eyes from the book to see Tilda wearing the expression that Tauriel had already come to recognise as meaning that the little girl had a question that would be difficult if not impossible to answer. 

“What is it, pen-neth? Would you like another story?”

“I was just wondering,” said Tilda, “you said the King was mean, but then he was nice again, and Da seems to think he’s nice, and he sent us the books, and that was nice of him, but if he was mean before why would he be nice now? I don’t understand.”

Tauriel’s heart sank; was she really going to have to explain her King to this little girl who was really far too young to understand any of it? Let alone the fact that she was absolutely not the one who should be explaining to Tilda why her father seemed to like the King so much.

“He’s a very complicated person, pen-neth,” Tauriel began; she knew the reasons for Thranduil’s coldness, his ‘meanness’ as Tilda put it, and she was not at all certain that he had truly been able to put them out of his heart. She was still struggling to forgive him for how he had treated her, even though she knew he had had his reasons, even though he had apologised and asked for her forgiveness. Even though her banishment and subsequent appointment as ambassador to Dale and Erebor had brought her to this cosy little house, this kind, caring, loving family who had more or less adopted her into their midst.

“I still don’t understand,” said Tilda. “Da said it’s hard to be a king and sometimes you have to do things that make people think you’re mean because you have to think of everything and not just one person or another, but it doesn’t really make sense.”

Tauriel sighed, perhaps the simplest explanations were the most accurate, and Tilda had grasped many of the themes of the fairy tales in her book, after all. “Well, the thing is, you see, pen-neth, that many, many years ago, the King had a wife, and a little son, whom he loved more than anything in the world. And then something terrible happened, and his wife died, and it broke his heart into so many pieces that he couldn’t put it back together again. And so all he knew how to do was to make himself into ice, and cut himself off from the world and from all the people who were left who still loved him.”

“Oh,” said Tilda softly. “Even his son?”

“Even his son,” said Tauriel. “And the little girl who grew up with his son as his best friend, and who became the Captain of his Guard. He pushed all of them away because he couldn’t bear to have them close to him any more.”

“Well, that’s very silly,” said Tilda. “Surely they would have looked after him until he wasn’t sad any more. This way he’s probably still sad now.”

Tauriel couldn’t help a small smile at that. “I think he might have learned to see your point, just recently, pen-neth,” she said. “I think the battle might have been the final straw for him, in more ways than one.”

“His son left, didn’t he?” said Tilda, quietly. “And the little girl - oh, was that _you_?”

Tauriel nodded. “It was.”

“Oh no,” said Tilda, horrified. “So he was mean to you about Kíli, and then your best friend went away because of him, and then Kíli…” she trailed off, her lip wobbling, but then took a deep breath and pulled herself together, and Tauriel had to smile at her bravery, even though the mention of Kíli was enough to send a sharp stab of pain through her heart.

“That’s about it,” said Tauriel, fighting to keep her voice steady, and Tilda launched herself from under her pile of blankets to wrap her arms around Tauriel, climbing onto her lap. 

“Oh Tauriel, I’m so sorry. Kíli was so nice, and his brother too, and now your heart is broken in pieces as well but I promise I’ll help you put it back together, if I can.” She paused, looking up at Tauriel with wide eyes. “The king’s son was a bit scary though.”

Tauriel could not help a shaky laugh at this, as she blinked the tears out of her eyes. She would not burden this child with her grief, no matter how sympathetic Tilda was; it was not her place to ask for comfort from such a little one. “Prince Legolas has become very serious, I fear, because he loves his father and he wants his father to love him back again. His father has hurt him deeply, but I hope that one day he will be able to come back, and perhaps they will be able to mend things between them.”

“But do you think the King will be able to?” asked Tilda, and Tauriel paused, choosing her words carefully.

“I hope so,” she said. “I hope he has come to see that grief can be like a poisoned wound, and if it is not treated properly, it will only get worse. He let the poison fill his heart, and in turn it poisoned his life, but now I think the battle has opened up the wound again, and now he sees that he will need help to draw the poison and clean the wound.” She paused again, wondering how far to take the metaphor; but then Tilda was already aware that her father liked Thranduil, perhaps even that he had come to care for him. And it would be important to Bard that his children should like him too. “I think perhaps your father has become his friend, and is helping him already, but he will need more than that, pen-neth. He might even need me, and you, and your sister and your brother. Do you think you might be able to help him?”

“Me?” said Tilda. “But I’m only little. I don’t know about anything.”

Tauriel laughed softly, and gently ruffled Tilda’s hair. “I think you know a lot of things, pen-neth,” she said. “You are already helping me piece my heart back together. The King’s heart will be a challenge, because it has been broken and frozen for so very long, but I think you are more than equal to the task of helping all of us to help him mend it. And I think that he would like it if you tried, even if he doesn’t know it yet. He sent you this book, after all, did he not, and I don’t think he would have done that if he did not want to be your friend.”

“Oh,” said Tilda, looking as though she was thinking hard. “But - but why do _you_ want to help him? If he was so mean to you and pushed you away so hard, why didn’t you go off with the Prince when he left?”

“Sometimes I ask myself that question too, pen-neth,” said Tauriel. “But immediately after the battle I couldn’t have gone anywhere, because I was so very, very broken, and the King looked after me. He brought me back down here to the city, to you, and he apologised to me for what he had said to me and he offered me words of comfort. And he asked me to forgive him.”

“And you did?” Tilda whispered, her eyes wide again.

“I did,” said Tauriel, “or at least, I said I did, and I’m trying to make it real, in my heart.”

“But why?” Tilda wanted to know.

“Because long ago, before he was my cold-hearted King, he was my best friend’s father, and he looked after me when my parents died. He was my - well, I called him ‘uncle’ though he was not truly my father’s brother. And I always wanted my uncle back. So if this is what I have to do to get him back, I will do it, no matter how long it takes.”

“I see,” said Tilda. “Well then, we will have to help him so that he can come back to you, and to his son. And so that he can be nice again, and not all frozen and cold and mean and - and poisonous.”

Tauriel chuckled softly; if she knew anything about Tilda by now it was that her kindness and curiosity were only outweighed by her steadfast determination. “Then that is what we shall do, pen-neth. But now I think it is time for you to go to sleep.”

Tilda smothered a yawn. “‘M not tired,” she protested, and Tauriel laughed properly this time.

“Yes you are. You can hardly keep your eyes open. And you can’t plan how you are going to help the King if you can’t stop yawning, can you?”

“I can try,” said Tilda mutinously, but the next yawn betrayed her and when Tauriel picked her up and put her back into her bed, she did not protest. Tauriel tucked the blankets around her and smoothed her hair back out of her face, and turned to leave the room. 

“Sleep well, pen-neth,” she said, and Tilda murmured something in return, but only just, and when Tauriel looked at her more closely she realised that the little girl was already asleep. 

Slipping from the room she went downstairs, an affectionate smile still on her lips, and when she took her place around the fire with Bard and Sigrid, who were having a discussion about the negotiations with Dáin over a glass of wine, they both raised their eyebrows at her a little.

“What’s that smile for?” asked Sigrid. “Oh lord, Tilda hasn’t been asking you awkward questions again, has she?”

“Only a little bit,” said Tauriel, her smile widening in amusement. “She wanted to know about why my King was ‘mean’ and why you seem to think he is nice.”

Bard groaned softly. “Did she now? What did you tell her?”

Tauriel’s smile grew warm. “I explained to her that he lost his wife long ago, and his heart was so badly broken that he could not bear to let anyone close enough to him to help him put it back together. And I explained that now, he is at last learning to do so, and that perhaps he might like it if she helped us to help him.”

“Oh,” said Bard, and Tauriel was fairly sure he didn’t realise he was smiling at the thought.

“We’ll all help,” said Sigrid. “Apart from anything else, if he’s not so miserable he might be nicer to you again, and maybe even rescind your banishment.”

Tauriel shook her head. “I will have to serve longer than this for what I did,” she said. “But I don’t mind. It has brought me more joy than I thought it would, and satisfaction, too, in beginning to see some results in the negotiations.” She gave them a meaningful look, and did not miss the way Bard’s hand went to the inside pocket of his jacket to make sure what he had placed there for safekeeping was still safe. “In any case, I must serve out my sentence for defying my King, even if he has already forgiven me for what I did to _him_. It will not be so long, and truly I am happy to stay here and help you see Dale back to its former glory.”

“Well then,” said Bard, pouring her a cup of wine, “we are delighted to have you here, for however long you are able to stay. And perhaps we can all help to do something about the state of your King’s heart.”

“You most of all, Da,” said Sigrid with a mischievous grin, and Bard groaned.

“Give over, sweetheart,” he said, but he was smiling, and Tauriel thought that it did her heart good to see it. Perhaps if healing and happiness were the order of the day, she might hope that some of it could be spared for her, too.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Sindarin translations:**  
>  (source: ambar-eldaron.com’s dictionary last updated October 2008): 
> 
> pen-neth: little one (literally: young one)


End file.
